Main menu

Last week's foray into the Hell Garage took us to a land of big, fast Mercurys, with a 1969 Marauder taking on its 2003 descendent. Big American machinery can be medium-grade hellish, to be sure, but you get such vast drivetrain and chassis parts interchangability with stuff from the Detroit Three that the Hell Garage Demons get bored with their lethargic pitchfork-jabbing and melting-point-of-mercury temperatures in the Lake of Hell Project Fire. What's the solution? British cars, of course!

They're cool, they're weird, they were bashed into shape by angry, warm-beer-addled line workers who downed their 10-pound hammers (the primary tool used to assemble British Leyland products) only to head out to the picket line, and you can find hopeless restorable examples for the price of a 15-year-old Toyota Corolla commuter.

We're going to stay away from the usual MGBs and TR6s because A) they're fairly simple and easily understood cars, in spite of the abysmal build quality and Lucas electrics, and B) they have wimpy inline four- or six-cylinder engines. When the rusty, brimstone-coated gates to the Hell Garage creak open at the end of your sentence project, you'll want to roar out of there with a big V8 in your British factory hot rod!

You see? Perfect prior to storage!

The Jensen Interceptor had it all: Chrysler big-block V8, body design by carrozzeria and plush British interior. You could get your rumbling, Mopar-ized British brute as a coupe, a hatchback or a convertible. Really nice examples sell for north of 30 grand, but Project Car Hell isn't about really nice anything. That's why we've found you this 1971 Jensen Interceptor Mark II hatchback in Brooklyn (go here if the listing disappears). The price? You won't believe it! Just $1,995, because the seller "must clear out my driveway."

Yes, when a man faces the dilemma of a full driveway, he can do some rash things, including even the desperate expedient of offering his Interceptor for such an absurdly low price. Don't hesitate—grab this car immediately! The seller doesn't waste your valuable time by typing out a lot of worthless verbiage describing the car. Instead, we get this all-you-need-to-know bit of prose: "1971 Jensen Interceptor II with 383 V8. Been sitting for a while and thus needs lots of work. Car was perfect prior to storage."

You see? Perfect prior to storage! Does it have a manual transmission? Possibly. Does it have the much-sought-after "Six Pack" triple-two-barrel carb setup? It doesn't might! How long was it stored? We can't say. Is it rusty? Maybe. Is every component that ever touched liquid or electrons deteriorated to the point of utter uselessness? Of course!

On the plus side, it appears that most (or maybe even all) of the glass is still there, which means that it's unlikely possible that generations of possums haven't been living inside. Still, the interior will need a complete restoration going-over, along with the body and paint. As for the engine, you'll want to keep the numbers-matching original 383 (assuming that's what's in it, and assuming that the term "numbers-matching" has any relevance with a Jensen product), which means you'll just need to throw a rebuild at it. That will be the only easy step just one of many easy steps in your path to a beautiful, road-eating Interceptor.

The Hell Garage Demons demanded that I match the Interceptor up with a Triumph Stag.

The Hell Garage Demons demanded that I match the Interceptor up with a Triumph Stag. "You need to include car with a genuine British-designed V8!" they hissed, their voices hard to hear over the wails of the damned, forever condemned to adjust the valves in a hot Volkswagen Type 1 engine. "That long timing chain in the Triumph V8 was designed right here in Hell!"

However, the Stag is so much more punitive than even the Interceptor that I decided to make this a toe-to-toe challenge between one Detroit-engined Brit and another (we'll return to the Stag another time, and we'll match it up with something Italian).

Then I thought about an MGB-GT V8, but they weren't sold in the United States and all the gray-market examples that are here are too nice. Such a dilemma! Then, it hit me: the Rover SD1!

Marketed in the United States as the Rover 3500, only 1,204 were sold for the 1980 and 1981 model years, after which the 3500 disappeared. They're not easy to find, but the Hell Garage has a direct line to Craigslist and managed to unearth this 1980 Rover 3500 sedan in Missouri (go here if the listing disappears) for just five bucks more than the Interceptor: $2,000.

The seller presents this car as a business opportunity ("Ideal for a person who likes to restore and make something beautiful , and make money on your investment."), and he isn't anywhere close to may be right. This car is a license to squander print money! It's rust-free, which is nice, and it looks to have much of its hard-to-find glass and trim, which is also nice. The car has been sitting for "over 10 years" (which is Craigslist-ese for "George H.W. Bush was still president when it stopped running"), which means that all some mechanical components won't be working. Hey, every single thing you need for this car may be obtained simply by calling up your friendly parts guy (in England) and ordering the necessary goodies (from across the Atlantic).

Under the hood, you've got the good old Buick 215, a.k.a., Rover V8, which means at least the engine will be easy to get running. Oh, wait, it has Lucas fuel injection. No problem, though. Just imagine the glory of escaping the Hell Garage in your fully restored '80 Rover 3500!